Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing - Chapter 190

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

The Successor? No, Thank You—I’d Rather Heal Chapter 190

“The Young Master has fallen asleep.”

Elvia emerged from the darkness where she had been keeping watch, her words drifting out gently.

“So it seems.”
“It was such a rare, intimate evening—I’m sure you must be disappointed. Hehe.”

Patrick’s head turned sharply at Elvia’s laughter, and he replied with deliberately cool indifference.

“Cheeky thing.”
“The conversation appears to have been quite enjoyable, by the look of things.”
……

Elvia gazed at Patrick, unable to deny it, her eyes warm and gentle.
For Elvia, who had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, this moment too was deeply gratifying.
To Patrick, that beautiful child Lara was like an Inverse Scale—the wound that must never be touched.
It ached when pressed, brought anguish, yet she had already departed from this world, and he still had other children to protect; he could not speak of her so easily.
And above all, the guilt of failing to protect his child was immense beyond measure.
He could not even bring himself to apologize to his grandchildren.
To apologize would be to pass that guilt and grief to children who had not yet fully grown.
But today.
With that single phrase Lion had uttered in his drunkenness, Patrick found salvation.

‘How good.’

Elvia was genuinely delighted.
In her eyes, Patrick was still nothing more than a child.
His form had become like an ancient, gnarled oak hardened by the passage of years and weathering, yet there was a saying: a child is a child forever.
To her, a witch, time was endlessly brief, but for him, these days must have been truly terrible.
That he had been able to endure at all was perhaps only because his blood remained with him.

‘Still, perhaps it’s time…….’

Elvia passed Patrick, lost in contemplation, and fixed her gaze on Lion, sprawled heavily intoxicated across the table.

“If he remains there, it will harm the Young Master’s health. Shall I attend to him?”
“…No, I shall do it.”
“Very well. I shall go prepare his sleeping quarters.”

Elvia slipped quietly from the dining room.
Free now from the depths of his emotions, Patrick approached Lion and cast Weight Reduction Magic upon him.

“Lion.”

He then gently shook Lion’s shoulder.
The touch was too light to wake him—a gesture without real intention—so Lion did not stir.

“Well, what can be done.”

Patrick muttered to himself as if resigned, having already cast the Weight Reduction spell, and hoisted the unconscious Lion onto his back.
As the proper weight settled against his spine, Patrick found himself smiling quietly to himself.

‘How long has it been since I’ve carried someone like this?’

Perhaps this was the first time he had truly carried him at all.
He had never imagined that at this age, he would carry Lion on his back.
It would have been impossible without reaching a certain height as a mage.

“There’s no greater unfilial son than this.”

Patrick’s voice was brimming with delight as he spoke.
It was the sensation of doing now what he’d failed to do when Lion was young.

‘I must be drunk myself.’

Making this excuse to himself, Patrick carried Lion—who had grown to his own height—on his back and walked slowly down the corridor.
Had anyone seen them, they might have whispered.
A fully grown man being carried on his grandfather’s back.
But not a single servant appeared in this hallway Patrick was passing through.
Even if someone had seen, they would be obliged to keep eternal silence.
By the time they reached the floor where Lion’s room was located.

“Mm…….”
“Seems you’re coming to.”

Unfortunately, Lion had woken from his sleep.

“Wait—you carried me here?”
“Does it matter?”
“…….”

Lion found himself at a loss for words.
Even if he was on the lean side, Lion was already a full-grown adult.
He wasn’t particularly short either—in any case, he wasn’t the sort to be carried on his grandfather’s back.

“I’ll walk, sir. Let me down, please.”
“Enough. Just stay still.”
“…….”

At least it was reassuring that his grandfather’s gait was completely steady and his breathing unchanged.
Perhaps he’d used magic.

‘This is something.’

That eased his mind somewhat, but he still didn’t know what to do with himself.
Lion—at his age—had never been carried by anyone.
Even when he’d gotten thoroughly drunk at a company gathering before the possession, he’d walked back to his studio apartment on his own two feet or crawled on all fours, never once being carried.
Before that, when he was younger…….

‘I don’t think there was ever such a memory.’

He had no recollection of ever being carried by anyone.
The first thing he noticed was that the position was far more uncomfortable than expected.
He had to lean awkwardly, and his legs hung across his grandfather’s arms and waist, aching from the pressure.
If he’d been sober, he would have insisted again that it was fine, that he should be put down.
But……strangely, this feeling was quite peculiar.

‘I don’t want to ruin this.’

Perhaps because he’d drunk nearly to the point of total intoxication, he found himself suddenly wanting to be childish.
He wasn’t sure how to handle such a situation naturally.
His head knew he could simply stay still, but his body found it difficult to accept.
The warmth where they touched, the unfamiliar yet deeply pleasant view from behind his grandfather’s back—all of it stirred something in him.
A sense of security, a certainty that this was a trustworthy presence.
He’d been childish and dependent before, but this time the feeling ran deeper.
Perhaps for that reason, the question Lion asked now was purely spur-of-the-moment.

“Grandfather.”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me an old story?”
“……What?”

Patrick had been walking when he stopped and turned his head.
His grandson’s hair came into view, but frustratingly, nothing more than that.
Just as he was about to ask what this was getting at, Lion added to his question.

“Did you have any close friends?”
“…….”

Patrick exhaled at that question.
He was probably just saying whatever came to mind in his drunkenness.
Having made his judgment, Patrick resumed walking.

‘A friend.’

Naturally, he had none.
Wasn’t that already said? Ricshel’s temperament was identical to Patrick’s own.
And Ricshel was a boy who felt no particular need to make friends.
So surely Patrick was the same.
Even decades ago, there was no friend with whom he could bare his true heart.
Not an elf, not a thief, not even a saint.
But……
If you expand the meaning of the simple word “friend” a little further.

“There was a similar sort of person.”
“Really? Who was that?”
“The Hero.”

One who fought on the very front lines of war, never retreated, and possessed surprisingly clear judgment.
And yet was good and merciful.
A person quite unlike Patrick in character.
And yet the sole being Patrick had ever truly respected.

“Whether he thought of me as a friend, I cannot say.”

He was someone who treated everyone with equal kindness.
To the point where Patrick occasionally found it frustrating.

“Might he not have thought of you that way?”
“He vanished so suddenly that I never got the chance to ask.”
“……You didn’t search for him?”
“I tried.”

From when the Hero disappeared until quite recently.
Patrick had made considerable efforts to track down the Hero’s whereabouts.
But he could not find him.

“I stopped.”

It felt as though he was asking Patrick not to search for him.
When you think about it, that made sense.
Even one who seemed like a legendary hero was, in the end, merely human.
And unlike Patrick, he was a very tender-hearted person at that.
For such a man to bear the weight of heroism could not have been easy.

“He, too, must have wanted to live his own life.”

Patrick opened the door and laid Lion down on the bed.
Once Lion settled onto the mattress, he turned to Patrick, who had tucked the blanket around him with surprising gentleness, and asked a question.

“Don’t you wish to meet again?”
……

Only then could Patrick make out Lion’s face clearly.
It bore the same features as always, and his expression seemed quite serene—yet his grandfather Patrick could perceive what lay beneath.
Something deep, hidden in those eyes.

‘I thought he was simply drunk and maudlin, but it seems there’s more to it than that.’

But it was all right.
This too was his grandson, and this was Lion.
Patrick reached out and awkwardly stroked Lion’s hair.

“I harbor no such wish. A Hero, a Champion—such beings emerge only when great calamity descends upon the world. And that is neither a blessing for the world nor for the Hero himself.”

He held fast to the belief that the Hero lived well somewhere.
Indeed, he had to.
In such a brief span, the Hero had already borne far too much.

“And……”

Patrick opened his mouth to speak, then fell silent.
He harbored a secret hope that his grandson might never bear that burden.
If a world could only persist through the sacrifice of one or two souls, then perhaps it deserved to crumble.
Not because he feared that soul might be his grandson.
It was simply something he had come to understand, imperceptibly, during the years he had walked alongside the Hero.

“No. It’s late. You should sleep now.”

Patrick withdrew his hand and rose from his seat, then walked slowly toward the door.
One step, two steps—as he drew near the threshold—

“Sleep well.”

Lion’s quiet voice reached his ears.
It was an ordinary farewell, yet Patrick could not help but sense it.
The unspoken promise not to press further, for the sake of his anxious grandfather.

……Sigh.

Patrick exhaled deeply.
It would be easier if the boy threw a tantrum and demanded answers—then Patrick could be firmer. But that wasn’t what was happening.
Nor did it mean he was surrendering.
It meant Lion would uncover the truth himself, alone, in his own time.

‘This is truly vexing.’

Patrick drew a far deeper breath in his mind than the one he had exhaled aloud.
No matter what he hid to ease his own heart, that boy’s will and freedom would inevitably turn toward the Hero.

‘Then, if that is so……’

He could not stand in the way of a child moving toward a new horizon.
After a long pause, Patrick spoke quietly.

“The North.”
……
“The last trace of the Hero I ever found was in the North.”

Before Lion could say anything else, Patrick seized the door handle and stepped out into the corridor.
As he walked alone through the empty hallway, his eyes grew distant.
Even he, for all his mastery of magic, could not know if this choice was the right one.
But.
If Lion—if my grandson were to become the new Hero.
I would not let him disappear like a fugitive, as the previous Hero had done.
I would let him continue his life as Lion Asterio.
And so Patrick resolved.

* * *

Several weeks had passed since Patrick and Lion’s agreement.
In that time, Lion’s daily life had not changed in the slightest.
The awkwardness between him and his grandfather never took root; Patrick treated Lion as he always had.
Ricshel had sulked for a moment, robbed of his chance for petty revenge, but soon came around.
He’d discovered that the Second Imperial Prince had orchestrated the whole affair.

“After all, the Emperor must value legitimacy above all else, mustn’t he.”

Lion had cut off that venomous remark before it could go any further—otherwise, nothing remarkable had occurred.
It was all remarkably peaceful.

“They’re drying nicely today as well.”

Lion examined the Soybean Paste Blocks as they hardened, just as he did every day.
Since he’d been sparingly applying Fermentation Acceleration bit by bit, they were ripening faster than ordinary blocks would have.
At this rate, soon enough—

‘I might be able to make sauce.’

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————